


Second Lives

by misura



Category: The Imitation Game (2014)
Genre: Character Death Fix, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:45:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Menzies interferes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Lives

"Alan," Menzies said, and his voice sounded rather peculiar, as if they were both underwater, which they weren't, of course; silly thought, if they were underwater, they wouldn't be able to -

_Violence. People commit violence because it makes them feel good. There's no thought, no consideration of -_

"Bloody hell. Can I have some assistance here?"

_Breathe. People underwater wouldn't be able to breathe._

_Must be just me, then._

 

Two chairs and a table, no windows. The room reminds him of the police station, except that it's colder.

Menzies walks in forty-three seconds after Alan's raised his head; he's been watching then, probably for some time. Reading, possibly; there's several folders under his arm, a mug of tea in one hand.

"Believe it or not, I just got back from a funeral."

Alan knows it's his cue to ask _whose?_. A normal person would have asked. Presumably, a normal person would want to know. "I don't."

"Believe me?" Menzies pulls up one of the chairs. "I'm hurt. I mean, seeing as how it's true and all."

"Whose?" Alan asks, even though he still doesn't want to know. "Who died?"

Menzies grins. "Two questions. Two different answers."

Alan considers the room, his memories of how he came to be here, Menzies's obvious good mood. "I see."

"Quite a turn out there was, too. Considering." Menzies shrugs. "Not that I expect you care."

"Correct."

Menzies nods amiably. "Still. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? I mean, if we faked _your_ death, who else might be walking around alive and well in spite of generally being considered to have died quite some time ago. Years, even."

Alan feels cold. It's a chilly room. "Why?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself. Nothing to do with you. Just one of those things. Happenstance."

Alan says nothing.

"Would you like to meet him, then?" Menzies asks.

 

It's unmistakably him.

_Christopher. The other one._

And yet, it's been years. Decades. A normal person would allow room for a mistake, a deception, a lie for reasons that are valid to someone like Menzies.

"A lie by omission is - is still a lie."

It's Christopher's mouth, Christopher's smile. "Will you at least let me apologize?"

Christopher's lips. A normal person would have turned his head. "For what?"

"You were the one person I always wished I could have told the truth."

Alan's already said what he has to say to that. Still. "You called me your dearest friend. That was not a lie. Anything else is not as important as that. Not even what you are about to ask me is as important as that, and that, that is very important. From a certain point of view, anyway."

Menzies is not a man in the business of charity work. Menzies is not a _nice_ man, which makes him not quite normal, which makes him motivated to save Alan's life for reasons that are rational, logical, very nearly mathematical.

"I heard you named your first machine after me," Christopher says.

"Yes. I will have to think of a new name for the second. Stewart, perhaps." Alan's lips quirk. He will not name his new machine Stewart, and Christopher knows this. Menzies, perhaps, does not.

"Joan."

"I, I don't think that would be very appropriate. Or decorous."

"Well, that just means it's perfect, isn't it?"


End file.
